


Binky

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack, Established Relationship, Insecurity, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rampant insecurity or best coping mechanism ever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Binky

**Author's Note:**

> I combined the original fic with the timestamp meme comment fic (two days later), since they're both pretty short.

It isn’t that Zach doesn’t want to talk about it.  It’s just that whenever the subject comes up, Zach’s vocabulary is pretty much limited to _yes_ and _holy fuck_ and _again_.

He keeps trying though.  This time, he gets as far as, “Chris, we need to— _hnnnnngh_ ” before having to stop and regroup.

Zach has lived as a gay man in Los Angeles for many years now; he’s made the rounds.  He wouldn’t categorize himself as slutty, exactly, but he’s pretty experienced, has a few good tricks up his sleeve.  That said, he has no fucking clue what Chris is doing to his cock, only that it involves an extremely agile tongue and a possible pact with Satan because it’s _that fucking good_.  They’re barely two minutes into it and Zach’s already about to lose his mind, and not because this is the first time Chris has gotten his mouth on him.  This is not even the twentieth time Chris has gotten his mouth on him.  It’s just that every single time, Zach goes into this expecting a mere blowjob and instead gets worked over like the King of Fucktopia on National Orgasm Day.

None of this is even close to being a problem, not on Zach’s end, anyway.  The problem comes afterward, when Zach’s too blissed out to do more than drool and Chris is hurriedly dashing off to the Sexmobile or wherever it is he goes.   If it were just the lack of ever mentioning the fucking spectacular head outside of actually getting it, well, Zach could probably live with that.  (He’d make a gift horse/mouth comparison, but the joke is just too easy.)  No, the problem is the look on Chris’ face when he’s into it.

It’s not a Sex Look.  Zach knows Chris’ Sex Look, having been on the receiving end of it before and during actual sex, the kind where they kiss messily and roll around and actually look each other in the eye.  The kind where Zach wants to make Chris feel good too and Chris lets him, and then sticks around for the afterglow.  They’ve actually done that a few times.  So Zach knows Chris can do bedroom eyes like nobody else, but this looks more like the frantic way Chris goes after his morning coffee if someone steals it away for even a second.

If Zach were a better man, that would turn him off.  But of course it doesn’t, so he’s going to have to fight some of his more insistent biological urges if he wants to get to the bottom of this.  Chris is a keeper – he helps Zach with crossword puzzles without being a prick about it and he remembers to light a match after befouling the bathroom – so Zach is willing to wade through whatever pathology is sloshing around in Chris’ head at the moment in order to keep from becoming some weird habit on the level of caffeine addiction.   That is, if he can get Chris to pause for just a moment in sucking Zach’s brain out through his dick.

Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, running a marathon in the desert, sneezing with his eyes open – these are all things Zach has never done but which he imagines to be far less difficult than what he must do now, namely take Chris firmly by the ears and pull that glorious mouth away from his cock.  But when he does, Chris has the scrunched face of a baby denied his binky, and yeah, that kind of helps kill the mood a little.

“Christopher,” Zach says, searching for the right words.  Or any words.  “…the fuck is this?”

And of all the possible reactions to have, Chris just looks vaguely nervous.  “Um, if you have to ask…”

“No, I know what this is literally.  But why is it happening?”

“You need a reason?”

“For sex, no.  For you assaulting me out of nowhere, sucking me inside out, leaving me braindead, then running out?  Yes.”

Chris fidgets, but Zach is stern.  Well, at least as stern as he can be with his half-hard dick hanging out of his pants.  “I washed a red sock in with my whites today and everything turned pink,” Chris finally says.

“I’m sorry, you… _what_?”

“I fucked up my laundry.  And I pissed off my publicist again and I forgot to return some important phone calls and then I almost hit a guy on a bike, and it totally wasn’t my fault, the guy just zipped out right in front of me, but I got that adrenaline thing, you know, where your heart shoots up into your throat and you—”

Zach claps a hand over Chris’ mouth and blinks a few times.  Hard.  “Chris, do not speak again until you can start making sense.”

After a moment, Chris nods and Zach removes his hand.  “I just wanted to do something _right_.”

Zach takes this in.  “So… every time you burst into my trailer and tore my pants off with your teeth…”

“I’d flubbed a line or a cue.  Usually.”

“And after we all go out drinking…”

“John makes fun of me.  Like, a lot.”

“Should… should I send him flowers?”

“Za-ach,” Chris whines.  “If I wanted to talk about it, I’d fucking _talk_ about it.”

“I don’t know if this is healthy.”

“Does it matter?” Chris asks, and Zach has to concede a certain inarguable logic on Chris’ part.

But he still wants to be sure.  “This makes you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t feel resentful if I don’t reciprocate… at least not right away?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, um.”  This is without a doubt the most bizarre negotiation Zach has ever conducted.  “Okay.  You can suck my cock.  _If_ —” and here Zach pauses, because he’s pretty sure that no man has ever actually uttered that combination of words before.  “If you stick around afterwards and, time permitting, let me return the favor occasionally.”

Chris nods happily and licks his lips, his gaze drawn back to Zach’s cock, and that’s really all the diplomacy Zach can muster for this evening.  “Well,” he says, “have at it.”

And it’s damn hard to begrudge the Christmas-morning sparkle in Chris’ eyes, even if Zach does have to brave an endless future of brain-melting blowjobs to see it.

&&&

It’s two days before Chris forgets their agreement. Well, it’s two days before the next compensatory black magic blowjob, and after Zach has finished calling out the names of numerous major and minor deities in a octave no dignified man should reach, Chris gently tucks him back in his underwear and turns for the door.

The best Zach can do is sling an arm out, and it’s by pure luck that his fingers snag in Chris’ belt as he tries to make his getaway. And Chris doesn’t stop immediately, either – the two extra steps he takes yank Zach’s boneless weight off the couch and Zach ends up face first on the floor, pants still somewhere around his knees. The unbelievable shit Chris gets him into.

But he holds firm around Chris’ belt, concentrating all of his strength in his fingers until he can regain the necessary motor function to get his knees under him, and from there to stand up. “Christopher,” he says, pulling his jeans up with as much poise as he can muster. “Have you forgotten our agreement?”

“I think your nose is rug burned,” Chris says helpfully.

“Get your ass on the couch.”

“I really ought to get going.”

“Ass. Couch. _Now_.”

Chris obeys, sitting rather primly on the edge of the cushions as Zach starts pacing in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“Plotting my reciprocation.”

“Could you plot faster? There’s a new episode of Dancing with the Stars on tonight.”

Zach gapes. “Seriously? _Seriously_? I’m devising ways to make you come and all you can think about is Tom fucking Bergeron? I am insulted.”

“I thought we already established the fact that I’m kind of fucked up in the head.”

“I’m a little more worried that you might be fucked up in the pants,” Zach growls, climbing onto Chris’ lap. “Guess I’m just going to have to try harder.”

He shoves Chris onto his back and nearly tears his shirt trying to get it off. It’s a stupid shirt anyway, and Chris looks much, much better with it off. Zach’s on a mission now. Chris knows his weakness – though reality-warping blowjobs are kind of an obvious Achilles' heel – now he just has to find Chris’. He’s sucked Chris off, rimmed him, fingered him, fucked him, been fucked by him, and Chris has… well, “responded positively” doesn’t quite seem to cover it. There are dents in the wall above Zach’s headboard to attest to that. But none of it feels as overwhelming, as deep-down necessary as Chris’ mouth around Zach’s cock. Zach just needs to find the thing that Chris absolutely, positively can’t say no to.

It’s not biting or nipple-tweaking. For a moment, Zach thinks it might be frotting until he sees Chris’ eyes dart toward the digital clock. When Chris actually yawns and politely covers his mouth, Zach knows Chris is actively fucking with him, but it doesn’t matter. When he hits the right spot, Chris won’t even be able to think, let alone fuck with Zach.

They tussle for position on the couch, Chris trying to squirm away and Zach dragging him back down. They’re both half-naked and sweaty, skin marred with red from teeth and fingernails and Zach’s dick is making a valiant effort at a comeback from all the Chris under his hands and mouth. At some point Chris realizes this, palms Zach roughly through his jeans and uses the moment of distraction to wiggle away. Zach swings out again blindly, his open hand smacking hard across the swell of Chris’ ass.

Chris squeaks and freezes in his tracks.

Fucking _bingo_.

Zach has him face down on the floor, his pants and underwear yanked down within seconds. He brings his hand down again and again, reveling in the way Chris’ shouts break down from curses to bare syllables to clipped grunts. He’s humping the floor before Zach’s hand really even has a chance to sting, hips grinding down in a long, rough thrust on a particularly vicious smack as he comes.Zach considers leaving him there, spent and panting, as Chris has left him so many times before, but he can’t do it. Also, the floor is disgusting, so Zach helps Chris roll over so as not to accidentally get some kind of flesh-eating fungus up his nose that will rot his face off. Really, Zach saw it on TV once.

“I told you,” Chris groans, the rug burn on his own nose starting to turn an angry pink. “Fucked up in the head.”

“I dunno,” Zach says with a grin. “If I have a bad day on set, I really, really think spanking you will make me feel better.”

“Sick bastard,” Chris says, but Zach doesn’t miss the way he squeezes his own ass lightly as he reaches down to pull his pants back up.

Zach decides not to go over the next day’s lines that night.


End file.
